


A Minor Kidnapping

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Mycroft Holmes, Dating, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Kidnapping, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Top Greg Lestrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 22:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16752829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: A small kidnapping leads to Greg and Mycroft dating.





	A Minor Kidnapping

Greg groaned softly as he came to on a hard concrete floor. His head rang dully as he listened, but there didn’t seem to be anyone around, so he slowly opened his eyes. Hard to tell where he was in the dim light, but his hands were tightly bound

With another groan Greg pushed himself to a sitting position, trying to remember what had happened. He’d not been doing anything in particular, just walking down to his local for a pint. There was a vague memory of someone grabbing him from an alley but after that it all went dark. For good reason, if his throbbing head was any indication.

He took a breath, wincing at a probably bruised rib and looked down at his hands, wondering if he could pick the knot free, though he was certain the cavalry was already on its way.

**

“He’s been located.” Sherlock stepped into the office where his brother was pretending he hadn’t just been pacing.

“Excellent,” said Mycroft picking up his umbrella and walking out the door. Anthea fell into step on his other side. “Do we know why he was taken?”

“Working on that, sir,” said Anthea, fingers flying across her mobile. Sherlock got the door and the three of them stepped out and into the waiting car.

“Collect him,” Mycroft told Sherlock. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Sherlock nodded, looking out the window and away from Mycroft's ill-concealed concern. 

**

Greg had just started working on the knots when he heard a loud noise. He smiled grimly to himself and struggled to his feet.

A moment later the door swung open and Sherlock appeared. Greg didn’t question it as Sherlock cut his hands free and led him out. The place was eerily quiet, but Sherlock moved too fast for Greg to get a look around. Finally, Sherlock got him into a car and got in after.

“We’re going to hospital to get you checked out,” he said quietly, looking at Greg’s temple.

Greg could only assume there was a cut there. “Bit banged up, but I’m fine. Besides, isn’t it usually me telling you that?” The honest worry in Sherlock’s eyes was something he hadn’t ever expected to see.

“I suppose,” Sherlock shook himself, schooling his features. He took out some paper from his pocket and hastily scribbled a note. “When you’re finished at the hospital, go here.”

Greg cocked his head at him, but nodded. “Alright.”

**

Mycroft was sitting in a quiet corner of one of his favorite cafés, eating a second piece of cake and going over the reports. Anthea had insisted he leave the office, but it hadn’t felt right to go home. The noise of ordinary people going through their day was strangely reassuring, the rhythms of orders and other people doing their work, of friends and lovers enjoying a scrap of time with one another.

He closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and considered getting up for a fresh coffee.

To his surprise, a cup was set on the table. He opened his eyes and looked up at Greg Lestrade.

“Sherlock sent you,” he said as Greg sat down. Greg wasn’t looking too bad for the ordeal, a bump on his head, some stiffness to the way he carried himself.

“Yeah, but I would have found you anyway,” said Greg, nursing his own coffee and snagging Mycroft’s fork for a bite of cake.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him. “There was no need, after all, you’re the one who got the worst of it today.”

“You think if you don’t date me then I’ll be safe.” Greg met his gaze and got right to the point.

Mycroft blinked at him. “What makes you say that?”

“You keep pulling away,” said Greg, getting another bite onto the fork and offering it to Mycroft. “You find excuses to spend time with me, but cut it off before things can get too personal. You sent Sherlock after me today.”

Mycroft accepted the bite and carefully swallowed. “But you _were_ targeted because of me.”

“And I’m a police officer. I’m never going to be safe, Mycroft. I have enough regrets in my life, I don’t want you to be one more.”

For once, Mycroft was struck silent. He could see the truth in Greg’s eyes.

Greg reached over and covered Mycroft’s hand with his own.

Mycroft looked down at their hands. “Would you care to come back to mine?” he asked quietly.

“Love to,” said Greg, relief in his tone.

**

Greg smiled as they pulled up to Mycroft’s house. He had wondered a bit if he’d be shipped off to Siberia for broaching the subject. Fortunately, it seemed Mycroft was just as interested in a relationship.

Mycroft’s shoulders were tight as he led Greg inside. Greg reached out and rubbed his back. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Mycroft turned and gave him a faint smile. “I’m not sure what the proper protocol is from here. I don’t usually have guests.”

Greg cupped his cheek. “Doesn’t have to be any protocol at all. You could offer me some tea, we could sit in your kitchen and chat. Or… I’d very much like to kiss you.”

Mycroft looked at his lips and gave a tiny nod. Greg stepped forward and guided him into a gentle kiss.

There was a soft sigh as Mycroft relaxed, returning the kiss. Greg carefully wrapped his other arm around him and tugged him closer.

Mycroft put a hand on his chest, unfortunately straying too near a fresh bruise, and Greg winced.

“Oh!” Mycroft stepped back. “I’m sorry! Of course you’re still injured. I…”

Greg stepped forward again and shut him up with a kiss.

Mycroft groaned and went pliant as Greg held his shoulders.

“What do you want?” Greg asked, pulling back slightly.

“I don’t know,” admitted Mycroft. “I am far out of practice in these things.”

“Do you want to stick with kissing? Or do you want something more?”

Mycroft leaned in and kissed him gently. “Would you like to go upstairs?”

Greg studied his face, seeing the ghost of anxiety. “We don’t have to jump straight into bed, you know. We can take our time.” 

Mycroft looked a little relieved as he nodded. “I suppose you’re right. Tea?”

Greg grinned at him. “Sounds lovely.”

**

Three days later Mycroft picked Greg up for dinner. They had a lovely meal, some lovelier kisses in the back of his car, and then he dropped off Greg at home.

**

A few days after that Greg picked up Mycroft at his house. They saw a small art film that Greg was certain Mycroft enjoyed, then went out for dinner.

After, Greg parked outside Mycroft’s house and they tumbled inside, stealing kisses on their way to the sitting room. Greg pulled Mycroft into his lap on the sofa and just when it seemed the night might go very well indeed Mycroft’s mobile went off.

Of course, it was an emergency and Mycroft was very apologetic. Greg understood completely and watched him go upstairs alone.

**

For the third date Mycroft was having Greg over for dinner and with any luck they might make it upstairs. Hopeful the Balkans would behave.

He had, of course, fouled up his attempt at cooking dinner, and so had switched to ordering some of his favorite takeaway, fairly certain Greg would forgive the lack of a home-cooked meal.

The doorbell rang and Mycroft went to answer it, accepting the wine that Greg brought and leading him to the table where dinner was already waiting. “I had to order in. Did I get your dinner correct?”

“You did,” Greg assured him, leaning in to kiss him. “Though I’d eat anything you put down in front of me.”

“Well, you don’t want my first attempt, believe me. Cooking is another thing I’m out of practice in.”

“Maybe next time we can make dinner together.” Greg sat down while Mycroft poured the wine.

Mycroft put down the bottle and stole his own kiss. “I must admit I rather like hearing you plan future events with me.”

“Get used to it because I hope to continue for a long time to come.” Greg smiled at him.

They lapsed into small talk as they ate, sipping their wine. Greg got him comfortable in a way that few people ever had. And it was true, he could imagine a future with the man. His mind could spin out myriad possibilities for their time together, and, to his own amazement, in most of them he was certain Greg would always stay.

Greg squeezed his hand, drawing his attention back. “Apologies,” said Mycroft, glancing down.

“It’s alright, I know you’ve got that amazing brain, just one of the reasons I… I care a lot about you.”

Mycroft blinked, catching why Greg had almost said. _Sentiment_ , the one thing he’d always avoided. But now… 

Standing, Mycroft gave Greg a smile and tugged him to his feet. “Come upstairs,” he said.

Greg broke into a devilish grin. “Lay on, Macduff.”

Mycroft kept his hand and pulled him along, heart speeding in his chest. He’d hoped for this, planned for it, but now that the possibility was here… He turned and kissed Greg a moment before opening his bedroom door.

Greg stepped him backwards into the room, grabbing the front of his shirt with both hands, as if barely holding himself back. Mycroft wanted to surrender, wanted to be overwhelmed.

He nipped at Greg’s lip then sank to his knees, nuzzling Greg’s erection through his trousers.

“Christ,” muttered Greg, reaching out to brace himself on one of the bedposts.

Mycroft smirked and loosened Greg’s belt, impatient for the main event now that they were here. Greg swore under his breath as the cool air struck his cock. Mycroft looked up at him through his eyelashes and laved a stripe up his cock.

“God yeah, Mycroft. You want it, don’t you?” Greg groaned, watching him with hungry eyes. “Do I get to touch you, too?”

“In a moment,” said Mycroft, before wrapping his mouth around Greg and swallowing him halfway down.

Greg swore again, free hand running through Mycroft’s hair. “Gorgeous man,” he muttered, eyes slipping closed as Mycroft worked.

Mycroft moaned softly, Greg heavy on his tongue.

“Come up here,” muttered Greg after a few moments, pulling Mycroft back up to his feet. He kissed Mycroft hard, hands expertly stripping him of the button up he’d worn as a concession to dressing down.

Very quickly Mycroft found himself flat on his back on his bed. Now it was Greg that slipped to his knees, pulling Mycroft’s trousers off and kissing his inner thigh.

“Please,” whispered Mycroft.

Greg smiled and obliged, taking Mycroft in his mouth and bobbing his head.

Mycroft groaned, drawing his knees up automatically. He could almost get lost in the sensation, but he wanted more and reached back for his bedside drawer.

Greg caught the movement and pulled off. “Lube in there?” 

Mycroft nodded, not quite able to reach.

Greg chuckled and kicked off his own trousers, leaving him gloriously nude. “You do have several miles of bed here.” He climbed up onto the mattress and crawled across towards the drawer.

Mycroft rolled onto his side and kissed Greg’s leg as he went by. “It fit the frame.”

Greg smiled and opened the drawer. “I’m not surprised you’ve got a four poster canopy bed. It’s probably an antique, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Mycroft, stroking Greg’s skin

“Only the finest for you,” said Greg, taking the lube and turning around.

Scooting up, Mycroft kissed him again. “That’s why you’re here.”

Greg kissed him back, slipping his tongue into his mouth as he moved over him. Mycroft was certain he’d never tire of the way Greg’s weight felt on him, the heat of his skin, the way he covered him. Mycroft moaned as Greg’s fingers teased against him.

“Gorgeous,” murmured Greg again as he broke the kiss. He moved back across the bed and retrieved a condom from his trousers. 

Mycroft shivered. “You’re going to fuck me,” he said softly.

“If that’s alright with you,” said Greg conversationally, coming back over and swallowing his cock again.

Mycroft groaned and rocked up against him, finding himself between Greg’s mouth and his fingers, both of them equally wicked. He reached back and grabbed the headboard with one hand, eyes closing as he gave himself over.

Greg took him almost to the root, adding another finger. Mycroft spread himself wider, heat building low in his belly, breath growing short. He ran his fingers through Greg’s hair and opened his eyes. “I want to come when you’re in me,” he panted.

Pulling off again, Greg nodded and smiled at Mycroft as he rolled the condom on. Mycroft pulled him down for another kiss and Greg obliged. Mycroft moaned, tasting himself on Greg’s tongue.

Greg lifted his head to watch as he lined himself up and started pressing in. Mycroft’s eyes closed again. 

“Got you,” murmured Greg, thrusting slowly, moving deeper, arranging Mycroft’s long legs around him.

Mycroft moaned as Greg kissed him, wrapping his arms around Greg’s shoulders. It was everything he’d hoped for and more. Greg worked a hand between them. Mycroft arched into his grip, already close.

“Come for me.”

Mycroft let go, shivering as he came, squeezing around Greg.

Greg cursed again and started thrusting harder, chasing his own orgasm. Mycroft opened his eyes to watch Greg as he reached his climax, pleasure washing across his face before he collapsed onto Mycroft’s chest, breathing heavily.

“Amazing,” said Mycroft, running fingers through Greg’s hair. He made a face as Greg shifted. “And sticky.”

Greg chuckled and raised his head, kissing him.

“Bet you’ve got a shower as nice as this bed.”

“Maybe even nicer,” said Mycroft. “But stay here for a minute.”

Greg obliged and settled back down on his chest, idly mouthing Mycroft’s throat.

Mycroft ran his hands along Greg’s back, raising goosebumps, satisfied and hopeful.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](https://freebirdflyingforever.tumblr.com/post/180421186445/wastingyourgum-merindab-gravesdiggers) photoset.
> 
> Much thanks to Beltainefaire for the beta.
> 
> You can find me on twitter and tumblr at merindab.


End file.
